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The Sun's Denis Armstrong and Aedan Helmer square off over whether lawn chairs should be allowed into Bluesfest.

Denis Armstrong

The debate over lawn chairs at Bluesfest makes no sense.

For as long as I’ve been in Ottawa (11 years), Bluesfest fans have been arguing over whether the festival should allow lawn chairs.

If you’ve ever been to a concert at Scotiabank Place, you know the moment the concert starts, Joe Fan in the front row stands, blocking everyone’s view, and starts a domino effect of fans standing up until eventually everyone is on their feet.

But you know damn well that if that first person didn’t block your view, you and everyone else would stay seated because it’s more comfortable that way. Really, who wants to stand for a whole concert? No one.

So why do people insist on standing at Bluesfest? Do you stand around the campfire when you go camping? Do you stand around for hours when you go to the beach, or visit friends for a backyard barbecue? Of course you don’t.

So why do fans stand when they’ve paid big bucks to party at Bluesfest? Don’t you want to be relaxed and comfortable when you go to the big blue show?

In 2010, Steve Winwood and Carlos Santana played to a crowd estimated at 40,000. The issue that night wasn’t lawn chairs. It was overcrowding. If there is any controversy over lawn chairs inside the four-hectare park designed to accommodate up to 45,000 people, it’s because Bluesfest crowds are becoming unmanageable, in part because they’re standing up. That’s hardly an issue at the jazz and folk festivals, where most fans bring lawn chairs, are comfortable, the park’s organized and focused on the stage.

That’s not the case at Bluesfest. Designed as a circle of stages, it’s a multiple concert experience appealing to fans with ADD, wandering from one gig to the next and making it a challenge to sit in comfort.

Clearly, what Bluesfest NEEDS are more lawn chairs. In fact, the festival markets its own line of Bluesfest lawn chairs and inflatable summer furniture. Sofas, air mattresses and hot tubs. No one will want to leave the park!

Lawn chairs are only the first step in the evolutionary ladder of Ottawa’s music festivals.

I say, embrace the future and have a seat!

Aedan Helmer

This year, leave the lawn chairs at home.

Or, at the very least, have the decency to fold up those nettlesome obstacles by nightfall so the rest of us can enjoy an open-air rock concert the way it’s meant to be ... on your damn feet.

One of my most enduring Bluesfest memories is from 2006, when Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy sneered mid-song at the sun-stroked festival-goers seated in prime real estate next to the main stage: “Wow. I never knew we had so many fans in wheelchairs.”

And then later, like a sideshow preacher, Tweedy implored, only half-joking: “This music has the power to heal! Arise! Rise up from your wheelchairs!”

Yes, he said “wheelchairs” — and I’m sure some in the crowd were mildly insulted — but the message was loud and clear.

Bluesfest is a marathon, not a race. You need to pace yourself. I get that.

You need to take some time out between sets and catch a breather, down a beverage and get some reprieve from the

midsummer heat, especially on weekends when you’ve arrived at the crack of noon with a veritable campsite crammed into your backpack, double-wide folding chair with cupholder and extendable sunshade tucked under your arm.

Paramedics and cops won’t say so, but those chairs present an annoying obstacle to emergency workers trying to wade their way through a crowd, either while on patrol or to reach someone in distress.

Const. Marc Soucy acknowledged the chairs are “somewhat” of a nuisance, but added, “we won’t be telling people not to bring them.”

Lebreton Flats is a massive, grassy expanse. There’s plenty of space — off to the sides, around the soundboard, at the back, or at the relatively sparse side stages — if you really feel the need to sit on your hands while The Black Keys or Bootsy Collins kick out the jams.

Better yet, bring a blanket.

Just as effective when staking out your territory or keeping your bum dry, and it folds up conveniently.